


Most In Life

by Rhys (rhyssj)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Alcohol, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-30
Updated: 2001-12-30
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyssj/pseuds/Rhys
Summary: Happy new year.





	Most In Life

Justin asks them what's the one thing they want most in life. He says it on the first of December, when they're just sitting around, being together. Nobody's talking about the fact that Chris is freshly single again, and that JC has been single since September, or that Lance and Laura are settling back to just friends, or that Joey loves Kelly but not like he knows he should, or that Britney and Justin are fighting again. They're all miserable, but not with each other. 

"Can I have some time to think about it?" JC asks, head in Chris's lap as Chris pets him, twirling his fingers through JC's long, curly hair. On the floor, Joey leans back into JC's hand, letting him palm his buzzed hair. Justin is leaning against Joey, Lance folded around Justin's waist. They're watching television together, breathing as one. Chris sometimes thinks it's odd. Chris tries not think about it at all. 

"New Year's Eve, we party, just the five of us. Tell us then," Justin decides, and he reaches back to squeeze Lance's arm, to get a word of agreement, and Lance mumbles white noise, which is enough. It's just as well. They don't really want to go out. It'll just be drama and craziness and too much everything, like their whole lives on the outside. 

Chris spends the entire month thinking about it, though he knows the response the minute Justin asks. He's thought about it before. It's not that hard a question; the answer, though, that's not so easy to take. It means a lot more than it should, and it just barely touches upon what's in him, the amount of emotion that his four friends inspire in his soul. It's stupidly melodramatic, he thinks, but it's a part of him, like blood. 

So he thinks a lot, over thinks, he figures, and works out the exact words and the precise reasons, and what it all means that he doesn't even have to agonise over what should be a huge and life-changing question. Chris hates his own head by the end of December and lets anyone who will touch his temples to massage the lingering pain away. They all take turns, and Chris's conclusion is reaffirmed. Anyway, he's always known what he wants most in life. He was just never asked before, so he could never answer. 

On New Year's Eve, they all convene at JC's house in LA, the one on the side of the mountain, the one that Chris thinks is going to fall right off. It's empty, barely decorated, and JC just bought it to prove he isn't cheap. Of course, he's too economical to buy furniture, but that's JC. That's just the way he is. He's thrifty, thrifty and cautious and thoughtful. 

Justin and Joey buy the alcohol, getting Lance his fancy old people drinks, like gin and rye, and vodka for JC, whose stomach can't handle anything else. Beer for Joey, because he likes it, and colourful stuff for Chris, which Chris appreciates, mostly because then he can share with JC, who loves colour and is willing to be sick for it, and Joey, who'll get bored of his beer and flock to Chris's fancy girl-drinks. Justin gets three kinds of rum, and two cases of coke, and one of tonic, for Lance. Twelve cans of orange, no name brand, for JC, who'll only drink if they're being thrifty. His vodka is very, very cheap. 

Chris and Lance buy the food, greasy fattening crap for the deep fryer, and stuff for the oven. They can all cook boxed food, just not very well. Seven bags of chips, for JC and Justin, who get peckish after pot, and chocolate for Chris and Joey, which Lance will steal only when he's drunk and no longer worried about his body. The pizza will arrive at eight, and Lance gets two shrimp plates, one bottle of seafood sauce and one of ketchup. Chris only eats shrimp if there's ketchup on it. 

JC makes the place looks nice. He takes the plastic off the couches and brings in his fancy Swedish-made lamps and puts them everywhere, and he hangs streamers from the ceiling while Chris and Lance sit and direct, Chris too scared to get on the step-stool, Lance too comfortable to get up from where his head rests in Chris's lap. When JC is done, he curls up against Lance, and they nap until Joey and Justin return from the pot run. They join the pile, fitting themselves in, and they rest together until the pizza arrives. 

Chris opens the hats and passes them out, already laughing, already having a great time. JC puts on music from the eighties, five disks on repeat until the end, and Lance and Justin dance with him, jumping around, with Justin going crazy and Lance more subdued. Joey is snacking on the pizza then gets Chris a few slices, sitting next to him, leaning in so they touch. 

It's nearly ten when Justin, hooked on Joey and slowly dancing, brings up the question again, and they all settle down, Justin looped over Joey's back, Lance pliant and curved against Chris, and JC stretched between Lance and Joey, touching them. They have problems not being in constant contact. They're like a chain. They're stronger together. 

"Oldest to youngest," Justin says wisely, which Chris thinks is the first time Justin has ever reversed that rule, and Chris is suddenly nervous. It's always youngest to oldest, and he doesn't want to give his answer, not yet. He wants to hear JC say he wants nothing more than to see music or that Joey wants nothing more than to be the father to Brianna that his own father is to him. He needs to know that Justin wants to go to college and be a boy instead of an icon and that Lance wants to be the best he can be and never have to doubt that. 

"Tell," JC urges, teeth spread in the most beautiful smile, and Lance pokes Chris in the side, grinning in that I'll-eat-you-alive way he does, which he thinks is charming and is really just scary to people who don't know him. Justin mews in Joey's ear, and Joey says, "come on, man. J's giving you priority here. Never going to happen again." 

Chris sighs deeply. He wants there to be build up, wants it to be special, and it's come down to just him, first in line, giving the secret away before he even gets to hold it. He looks around, from JC to Joey, Lance to Justin. He wants to memorise them just in case his words do the opposite of what he hopes. "What I want most in life is you." 

"Who?" Lance asks as JC tips his head thoughtfully, and Joey scruffs a hand over his buzzed hair, helping him think it through. Justin's mouth forms Lance's word, but he doesn't make noise when it's already asked. Chris sighs deeply. 

"You. All of you," Chris mumbles, scratching his hand through his hair, sheepish, and Lance knocks his fingers away to do it for him, just the right pressure, just the perfect level of humility and bashfulness. "What I want most in life is all of you." 

"You have us," Justin says, and Chris looks at him, wanting to tug on the growing curls and say, stupid, stupid, kid, but Justin isn't a kid anymore. He pays his own taxes, buys his own houses, does his own laundry. Justin really wasn't ever a kid, which is why they take him sledding in Wisconsin every winter, and go to the Canadian National Exhibition to ride the carnival rides and let Justin eat himself to sickness at the end of every August in Toronto. In case he ever wonders if he missed anything, they'll be able to say that he didn't miss anything important. "Chris. We're all here." 

"No, I want," Chris says, and struggles for a way to phrase it in a way that doesn't sound too much, too big and crazy and strange in this world of big-crazy-strange. JC nods, makes sure Lance passes along the message of his head through air, and Chris smiles at him, thankful. 

"I want all of us, too," JC says simply, reaching out his hand, and Chris takes it, pulling him up. JC looks at Joey and Justin then at Lance and, finally, at Chris. JC is long and pliant as he wraps himself around Chris, laying his head on his shoulder. "I'll never be happy with anybody else, and I could never pick. I could never say who I wanted more." 

"Yeah, yeah," Chris says, "yeah, that's what I'm saying." 

Joey tilts his head, like he does when he thinks he's too stupid to get what's being discussed. Sometimes, Chris or Lance take him aside and makes him tell them what he concludes just so they can confirm it and he can believe he's not stupid at all. He worries that he is, even though he's so smart, so intelligent. Justin and JC both think some teacher told him he was dumb, and he's believed it ever since. Joey believes in people too much; they all agree on that. 

"Me too," Joey says finally, and it blurts forth like a tidal wave, so loud and fast that Justin shakes with it. Joey crawls over, Justin spread like a star on his back, and he hooks his chin over Chris's knee. Both Chris and JC touch his face, just to let him know that's he not dumb, that he gets it. He always gets it. Joey smiles. 

Chris is ready to explain it to Justin and Lance, who are both so young in times like this, but Lance knows it already. Chris can tell by the way his forehead is all wrinkled that he's just thinking about it. Lance thinks too much, often makes himself sick, and they all tend to him when that happens, feed him soup and watch chick flicks and run him hot baths. He protects them, and they protect him, always have, always will. Finally, Lance's face untwists and he nods hesitantly, turning his face into Chris's arm. 

"J?" Chris asks, and Justin pauses only a second before he bows into them, completing the circle. They sit in that pile for a long time, eating pizza and talking softly, and drinking their drinks, which Justin makes from the base of Chris's left foot, afraid to go too far, and thinking. JC thinks with his tongue in the corner of his mouth, while Lance's forehead folds. Joey presses a finger to his head to squeeze the ideas out, while Justin stares off, eyes half-mast. Chris, meanwhile, has already thought a lot and doesn't need to think anymore. In his head, it all works easily. 

When the countdown starts, they fold around each other and shout loudly, keeping the pace. Chris can feel it rising, the heat between them. JC looks over at him and grins, looking a little shy, a lot beautiful, and Joey bounces against Chris's leg, running a hand up and down Chris's calf. One hits, and they sing out, "Happy New Year!" 

Then Chris kisses JC. 

It's different. They've never kissed, not one of them, in all the time they've known each other. Chris has kissed other people, for fun, for practice, but never any of his best friends. It's that final step, that can't-turn-back-now thing. JC returns the kiss then lets Chris move onto Joey, whose mouth is already open and waiting. Lance next, the second youngest, then Justin, who flutters his fingers along Chris's throat. JC counts down next, Joey to Lance to Justin, then Joey, who kisses Lance then Justin, and finally the lambs, the once-babies, now-men, who kiss with open mouths and no tongue. 

"That's wasn't so weird, was it?" Chris asks, and chuckles nervously, skittishly. JC barks his peculiar laugh, nodding. Lance blushes prettily, and Joey grins at them, eyes smiling and happy. Justin stays quiet. He does think it's weird but is willing to try. Chris knows he loves them just as much as they love him. He's just too young and doesn't realise that this is the best it gets, that no one will ever love him the way Chris or JC or Joey or Lance does. 

They drink a bit more, just to get comfortable, and Chris relishes the feeling in his belly, kisses Lance when Lance presents his mouth, and Joey when Joey says a stupid joke, and JC when he wants some of Chris's colourful cup. Justin hovers on the outskirts, still a bit baffled, but flocks to Chris soon, licking at his lips and tasting the sweet alcohol on his tongue. They all kiss and laugh and share drinks. It feels good. 

JC's house, which overlooks the ocean, is perfectly private, and Chris stares out the window a second before putting his hand on JC's belly, under his shirt. JC understands and moves closer to Chris, letting him pull the gauzy fabric off his slender body. Justin peeks around Joey, watching quietly, and Lance actually reaches to help, manicured hands moving on JC's skin, fluttering like butterflies. JC purrs a bit and kisses the two mouths within distance, Joey and Justin, and he looks happy and pleased. 

Joey is next, with Justin helping him out and JC tossing the shirt once it's free, then Justin, who's never been shy about his body and never had reason to be. Lance pulls at his own shirt, gets it mostly all the way off before Joey stops him and takes it the rest of the way, knuckling down Lance's sides when his hands are free. Chris thinks the skin looks extremely soft and follows the same path, letting his fingers graze over velvet flesh. Lance touches back but doesn't stop at the shirt, suddenly shimmering with confidence. Hesitant green eyes ask wordless questions, but Chris just lifts his hips and doesn't mind when the air changes again, rapt with strange curiosity and muted excitement. 

"Oh, um, I've never," Justin says softly, "with," waving his hand at Chris's cock, and Chris takes his hand and folds it around his dick. Justin's mouth makes a small O, like he's surprised that it feels just the same as his, and Chris laughs at him, just a little bit, to keep him humble. Justin blushes deeply but doesn't let go. 

"Now you have," Chris says and grins. When Lance looks equally nervous, Chris does the same with him, so both hands twist together then corkscrew down, working as one. Joey adds his own hand, and Chris knows Joey feels like a tool but is glad he does it. JC kisses Joey, to make the blush go away, and Joey smiles at Chris, shiny and bright. JC doesn't add his hand. Chris isn't the least bit surprised. 

"C next," Chris manages to mutter, just to get the hands off his hyper sensitive dick, and they move to JC, who spreads out willing and giggles when he's tickled, his handsome body slowly revealed. Chris has always liked it, and knows Lance has too, who worries his hips are too big and his thighs too chunky, always comparing himself. Lance doesn't realise he's already gorgeous, too. Chris hopes that soon Lance won't have to fret anymore. 

"Joe," Chris murmurs. Joey, who actually shies away at first, looking at JC, who is long and slender, then at Chris, who pinches his own fleshy waist. Joey snorts but lets his jeans be shucked, big and beautiful and covered in black hair everywhere. JC, whose only really hairy part is his upper chest, plays with it, while Lance does the same, blond and finely dusted. 

"Lance," Chris says. Lance blushes darkly but helps Justin and Joey take off his khakis. Lance turns a hot, dark red when JC says, "oh wow," at Lance's dick, which is thick and hard and long, and he turns nearly purple when Chris adds, "porno-dick. Look at it. Jeez." Justin overcomes his own shyness to touch it, awed, and Chris likes how Lance's blush fades a bit as he gets more comfortable with himself and who he is. 

"Justin," Chris finishes, and Justin gapes at them all, just for a second. His eyes narrow and he clutches Joey, who kisses him. He's the only one in the position to calm Justin's skittish nerves. Justin hates not knowing his situation. He was taught as a kid to always know where he is and who he is and why he is, so Chris noogies his head with his knuckles, reminding him that Chris is still just Chris. Joey, who's egging Chris on, is still just Joey. JC, who chides them to stop, is still just JC, and Lance, who goes to work on Justin's zipper while he's distracted, is still just Lance. 

Nothing's changed. Chris just said what they've all been avoiding saying for so long, and now things are just shifted, just slightly. That's all. Chris says all of this with his eyes, gives away all his secrets, and Justin nods, understanding everything. They've never needed words. None of them have. 

Justin lets Lance drag down his jeans and briefs, shows off his perfect body with only the slightest hesitation. Joey touches his belly, tracing his six pack, as Lance thumbs the arc of his pectorals. Chris rubs his back while JC massages his legs, and then they're all there, sitting in the party-decorated room, touching and laughing and kissing. Dicks are compared and examined in a way that wasn't proper before when all they could do was glance quickly and look. Lance is the first to take one, JC, into his mouth, just to taste, and Justin invites himself to try, too. JC laughs shakily, holding his hands out to Chris and Joey, who grab them. 

Chris looks at Joey then holds Joey's cock in his free hand, and Joey takes Chris's, smiling back. They kiss as JC laughs again, his fingers tightening, while Justin says, "or like this," and Lance says, "oh, but this makes him." JC jumps, scaring them both, and they both smile as JC apologises, skin damp with a ruby blush. He almost came, Chris thinks. 

JC gives both Lance and Justin head then Joey takes Justin and Chris takes Lance, to let them feel beards and how it's different, in that way, being with a guy. JC moves around, kissing all the panting mouths, and tells them how much loves them and how beautiful they are. He lists what parts he likes best right in that moment, like Lance's big dick, and Justin's rippled stomach, and Joey's fuzzy chest, and Chris's tight ass. He writes them song lyrics in his head and whispers them, to make them all feel like a song. His hands move like notes over their skin. 

They twist around again, and Chris sucks Joey, and Joey sucks JC. The two youngest watch, touching themselves. They're all close to orgasm, but they're all holding off, all just enjoying this initial pleasure. Chris looks forward to future scenes, where he might make out with Justin on his couch, or go down on Joey in his car, or take JC into a private bathroom, or put his hand inside Lance's pants in an empty hall, but right now, he loves just touching, and learning, and the new things, which are really old things without action, that he can now experience. 

Joey urges them into a circle, a tight tangle of legs and knees at the centre, with Joey and Chris on their asses, Lance and JC on their knees, and Justin a combination of both. The room spin around them, all heat collecting in the spiral of their bodies. Chris nuzzles Joey beside him as his hand strokes over Lance's thighs on the other side, stroking his cock when he feels it, memorising the feel of it under his fingers, so he'll be able to tell when it's Lance and not someone else. He thinks, at first, it may be hard, but he's known them all so long, loves them all so hard and so well, that it won't be long until the gasp Joey breathes when he comes will be Joey's and Joey's alone. Right now, Chris can barely tell JC from Justin, and realises the chant of, "oh god, oh god," is not Joey but himself. Even Lance's deep rumble is alien, and sometimes sounds like JC, when he's sleepy and confused. 

They're a living, breathing mass of something bigger than them, than even Nsync, and Chris knows they've all learned already how much that separates them, why the girls don't stay but they themselves do. And this, Chris thinks, Joey's hand between his legs, pushing him forward, to the end; this, which drags songs from Chris's mouth that join with the others and make beautiful music; this is where they had to end up or risk being alone forever. 

What Chris wants most in life is to be loved and not be lonely. He doesn't want to watch his friends try and fail with their girlfriends. He won't do it anymore. This will work; it has to. There's nothing else, no other road, beyond them as one, as a whole of parts, a melody of voices. The five of them give the most in life together. They always have, and they always will.


End file.
